Call Them Brothers
by MatveyJeevas
Summary: Before Ventus lost his memory, he was a young Keyblade wielder who needed guidance. Xehanort will offer what Ventus needs, but only in exchange for something Ven is not willing to do. This is the backstory of Vanitas's birth. Not sexual or romantic at all. Titled after Regina Spektor and Jack Dishel's song Call Them Brothers.


_It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault!_

Angrily, Ventus kicked his chair and sat next to his bed, arms crossed and lips pressed firmly together. He stared at the large weapon on the floor, and it was just _sitting_ there, like it was some sort of decoration. Stupid Keyblade. It wasn't Ventus's fault that it always wanted to be with him—it just _did_.

They said he was a prodigy, and maybe that was true, but it didn't matter—once he grew up, he'd just be normal again. Ven blew some hair out of his face and crawled on top of his bed to stare out of the window. Countless times, his parents and teachers insisted that he not summon the Keyblade, because it wasn't safe at school, and it wasn't even safe at home. The other children _loved_ it, though. At recess, he'd run away under the slide or behind the bushes to show the older kids the Keyblade, watch the jealousy cloud their eyes behind the wonderment.

And it—it wasn't _Ven's_ fault that the bush caught on fire! It was just a little bush, a little flame, nobody got hurt. No one trained nine-year-olds in magic. It just didn't happen. Children were not supposed to control magic. Children were not supposed to have Keyblades. Ven looked over his shoulder to the floor, but it was gone. To be summoned again soon.

His room was not large—a writing desk against one wall, where he did math homework, and his bed, which definitely needed an upgrade because Ven had had it since he was three. The length seemed to decrease every month, as his feet grew larger than the bedframe.

Ventus sneezed onto the window and sniffed his nose. He wiped away the spit with his sleeve and squinted out into the darkness. The stars twinkled and got blurry. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Yesterday after school, Ven had been sitting outside on some boulders waiting for Dad to come pick him up. Chloe was there with him, showing off her tickets to the theater. Ven didn't really care, but he pretended to because Chloe was his friend. She had blond hair as long as his Keyblade because her parents only had it cut once in her whole life, and dark brown eyes—something strangely unusual. Ven loved her eyes.

"I'm going with my mom and big sister," Chloe was saying as she slipped the tickets into her backpack again. "It's gonna be so much fun. I love plays."

"That sounds cool," Ven replied, playing with his bracelet from the art museum. They hadn't cut it off yet because Ven liked to collect things, but he wasn't very good at it. He'd lost the science museum bracelet when they cut it off, so he wanted to protect this one.

Chloe paused to scoot closer to Ventus. She leaned in and whispered to him. "Can I see the you-know-what?" she asked.

Ventus let his hands sit in his lap as he looked at her. The brown eyes were wide with curiosity. Chloe didn't usually play with Ven at recess, so she had only seen it once, and that was a while ago. He shrugged and bit his lip.

"I dunno," he muttered. "I'm not really allowed to use it. Miss Fueller said if she saw it again she'd tell my mom."

Chloe put her hands on his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Come on, Ven, I won't tell anybody! Pleeease?"

Ventus scanned the playground. A few kids were swinging and climbing on the jungle gym. No one was looking. He grinned. "Alright—but just for a minute!"

She grinned as well as he took a deep breath. Cars rushed by, but he didn't let them distract him—Ven was a pro at summoning, now that it had been almost a year since he first did it. He held out his hand and the weapon appeared, shiny and sharp as a blade. Chloe asked him if she could touch it. Ventus didn't know any better, so he said yes. After her fingers made contact with the cool metal, she possessed the potential to become a Keyblade wielder—but only very, very strong hearts could summon.

"It's so awesome!" Chloe said quietly, standing up to walk around Ventus. She ran her fingers along the blunt end of the blade, lips slightly parted and eyes very wide. Then, a younger child—six or seven years old maybe—saw, and he ran up to the pair of fourth-graders.

"What is that?" said the little boy. He was missing two front teeth and couldn't speak very well.

"It's nothing," Ven said curtly, making it vanish.

"Woah!" the boy responded, astonished. "How did you do that?"

Ventus shrugged. "I didn't do anything, kid."

"You totally did!"

"Did not."

"Did so!"

"Did not."

"Did so!"

"Did _not_!"

Ventus crossed his arms and Chloe giggled. The little boy looked up at the two of them angrily. "If you don't tell me, I'm gonna go ask a teacher."

Ven rolled his eyes, but when he looked down at the boy, his smile disappeared. This kid looked serious. The teachers would believe him—Ven wasn't really known for following rules anyway. He sighed and got off of the rock. "Alright," he said. "You win. Come over here."

Chloe and Ventus led the child to a more secluded area. Once they were there, Ventus summoned the Keyblade and the boy gasped. He pointed one short finger at it and laughed.

"That's a Keyblade!" he said excitedly.

"Yeah."

"Are you a Keyblade master?"

Ventus smiled. He had never even _met_ a Keyblade master. "No," he said. "But I will be one day."

"Can you do magic?"

"Yeah."

"I wanna see! What do you do? Canya do Lightning? Or—or—or—Magnet? My uncle can do Magnet! It's so fun. Can you do ice? Or Fire? Or—"

"Slow down," Ventus chuckled. He held the blade up. "Check this out."

_It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault! _Ventus repeated the mantra in his head as he remembered the incident with intense regret. If only he knew some other spell—Blizzard! Blizzard would have been so much safer. Of course, the easiest and most basic spell that almost anyone could cast was Fire. Warm blood, warm fingers, transfer that energy and voila.

Ven tapped the glass as he replayed the day in his head. One fireball in the air, then another, then another. As they were falling, they got smaller and smaller, until they disappeared into smoke before touching the grass. It was so simple and safe.

"It's a shooting star," Ventus had said to the little boy. "See?"

"Pretty!"

As they all laughed together, a little spark landed on one of the bushes. It smoked and caught, but none of them saw until it grew bigger and bigger. Ven sniffed a little and could smell burning leaves. It was strong, like pine, and started licking away at blue flowers. The little boy yelped and jumped behind Chloe, who got behind Ventus.

"Ven!" she squeaked. "Don't you know Blizzard?"

The fire was orange and hot. It was glowing and it smelled so fierce. Ventus didn't know _what_ to do—he didn't know any freezing spells, well, he had tried them, but he never got it right and the fire was too bright and he couldn't think right and and and! The smoke rose up in swirly patterns as it consumed the flowers.

"Hey!" called an adult. Ven snapped out of his frozen stance and the Keyblade disappeared. He felt tiny and helpless as the grownup jogged over to the darkening smoke. Ven took hold of Chloe's hand. They stood, paralyzed, watching the adults rushing to dump water on the bush.

Ventus knew he had cried, but he didn't let Chloe see the tears. He wondered if he would see her again. The teachers kept talking about expulsion and transfers. They all said the same thing: _That boy is dangerous! He's a fool—he doesn't listen to instructions, he waves around that Keyblade like it's a toy, and puts all the other children in danger_!

Ventus didn't mean to be so bad. It just happened like that. Were Mom and Dad angry? After the adults took care of the fire, Ventus had been taken to the police station and picked up from there. He was so afraid they would lock him up! Oh. God. He did not want to be locked up in jail. But all day, he had been locked up in his room. It was approaching nine o'clock and Mom only came in to give him food. There were dirty plates sitting on his desk

He crawled out of bed and snuck over to the bedroom door. Their voices drifted through the keyhole, which had not been useful to his parents since he'd gotten the Keyblade. It was so easy to unlock doors now. Ven grabbed the dishes from his desk and tip-toed out of the room. He sat at the top of the stairs, hunched over and waiting to hear what his parents were saying downstairs. Their voices were muffled, but he knew they were talking about yesterday.

Ven started to go down the steps one by one. The voices became clearer and he got close to the wall. His parents _were_ talking about school. Bingo.

"If we don't get him a Master, the darkness in his heart could—"

"What darkness, Jack? He's a little boy! He's just a little boy."

"And I want him to stay safe—yes, we _both_ do. In just a few years he'll be begging for a Keyblade Master to train him. If we get one now—"

"They'll take him away—"

"He'll understand how to control his magic, his weapon, and he will be fine."

"They'll take him away."

"Not heavy training."

Ventus stood up and walked down the rest of the stairs with his plates. He made as much sound as possible so that they would know he was coming. The discussion was cut short when they heard the thump, thump, thump of socks on the old wooden floor. From the kitchen, Ven called out, "Mom?"

She came in, looking worn. Ven put the plates into the sink and hugged his mother tightly, much to her surprise. "Mom," he mumbled. He tried not to cry, and it was hard. He had no idea what was going on, and what had she meant by 'they'll take him away'? No Master would take Ventus, right?

"Ven… sweetie," she said, lifting him into the air. Ven knew he was heavy, but she carried him all the way to the couch and they sat down together for a while. Dad came over and put his arm around Mom. Ven felt safe a warm and perfect. Nothing could go wrong now. Everything would be perfect now. His parents loved him and they didn't think he was dangerous! Suddenly Ven did not want to go back to school ever. They hated him there. Chloe and his other friends wouldn't care after a while—they were only kids, after all. They could move on, right?

"Mom," Ven said again, not knowing where he was going. "I don't… I don't want a Keyblade Master. I wanna stay here with you. I wanna stay here with _you_."

Neither of his parents replied.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A/N: You could say this is a tentative rewrite of something I wrote a while ago. Probably 5-6 chapters.


End file.
